


Feels Like Falling

by spacefucker



Series: Forgiveness [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky/Tony/Steve relationship featured but also secondary to Rhodey/Sam, Character Study, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and heavy background, canon typical death and violence, deaths of parents, fudged timelines, in the Forgiveness verse, limited knowledge of military stuff, rhodey and sam's story, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefucker/pseuds/spacefucker
Summary: Rhodey and Sam's story following the Forgiveness series.This story is about finding love and staying in love through what life has to offer. This story is about devotion, loyalty, love, and commitment.





	

**_Sam – Age 18 – 7 Years Before the Meeting_ **

Funerals are one of the only things Sam will ever call surreal.

Although, he figures that maybe it seems especially so because he’s lost both parents in a matter of days. When his father had died the world had seemed to stop entirely. He had seen his mother break, the long-standing visage of her made of steel crumbled away to reveal a shaken but determined force. Sam loved his mother with all his heart and left himself no time to mourn in favor of supporting her because as far as he was concerned it was his turn to carry his mother now. Even though he knew she could do it herself.

He started the process, preparing for the funeral and handling finances, doing the housework and trying to find a job to help support them both. College pamphlets were thrown away and letters of acceptance were burned. Life had come to a screeching halt. Time seemed to slow down to a pace barely noticeable as a passage of time and even though those next few days passed by it managed to feel like nothing at all. Their lives had ended.

Or that’s what Sam had thought.

Because, surely, life isn’t so cruel as to kick you when you’re already down. They’d lost a father and a husband – what more could life take away? Sam thought that while he missed his father, and felt like there was this great hollowness blooming inside him, he’d at least had his mom. She was so distraught but still soldiering on. This was the woman who had raised him.

But then life had struck again.

Sam was stuck leaving a meeting with the funeral home to his mother in favor of an interview with the market down the street. The interviewer, Ms. Tulte, was sweet and all smiles. She’d heard of his father’s unfortunate death and mumbled something along the lines of, “This neighborhood is getting darker by the day.”

He’d nodded slightly, uncomfortable with the way it sounded, almost like it was trivializing. She’d continued with a placation that the man responsible had been apprehended and was very likely to face jail time but none of it really mattered to Sam. There was no amount of time anyone could serve that would be recompense enough for the extinguishing of his father’s bright life.

Sam couldn’t help but think that for a man so devout and free in his love for God, God had surely abandoned him in his time of need. It hadn’t been his father’s time to go. Nothing short of natural causes should have taken him away.

So Sam ends the interview with a stressed smile and steps out into the cooling night air and walks home. A sense of foreboding settles in his stomach low and rolls around uncomfortably with every step. As he picks up his pace he sees a cop car pull up outside his small townhouse and park. The same man from his father's case, Officer Leighson, steps out of his car and takes his cap off to twist it in his hands.

“Sam.” He says, voice thick.

Sam just walks closer, slowly, while he tries to figure out what’s wrong, “Did he get away?”

“Harrison? No…no, it’s not that.”

“Well, what is it?” Sam says, impatient and with more than a little trepidation.

Leighson sighs and clenches his hands in his hat, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes, “It’s your mom, Sam. She’s…”

“Where is she?” Sam asks, all anxiety and rising tides of fear.

“Son,” the cop begins, wincing, “your Mom, she died.” The cop pauses, letting it sink in for a moment and suddenly Sam feels like the world itself has been stolen out from under him. There’s a hysterical moment where it all feels like a joke, like his mom was just about to step out the front door with a laugh and the smell of dinner cooking. Distantly, he can hear the cop droning on, “…a mugging gone bad. She refused to let go of her wedding ring. There was a struggle and a shot was fired. I hope it helps to know that she didn’t suffer.”

After that it’s a flurry of paper work and shock. He remembers identifying her, surprised that for all the violence both his parents endured in their last moments they both manage to look like they’re sleeping. He stares for a long while in silence, hoping to see her chest rise and fall, like she may wake up at any time. He sees the ring on her hand, the one that she gave her life for, and realizes that nothing is going to happen.

She’s dead.

There’s a few days that blur together with family friends and calls from distant relatives. Days where he has to pry himself from bed to talk to the funeral home and discus pricing and things like duel headstones and side-by-side coffins. He spends hours at a time trying to think of the perfect effigies and trying to remember his mother’s favorite floral arrangements.

Soon enough, though, the day comes and it’s a lot like it’s snuck up on him all at once and he realizes with a start that even though he’s gone through the motions for this funeral, he’s still wholly unprepared for it. Seeing both his parents laid out side by side cushioned by white silk and lace surrounded by cloying flowers becomes a little too much and he has to fight the desire to tuck tail and run.

So he stands there, hands clenched white-knuckled at his sides and doesn’t cry – can’t cry.

Sam listens to the sobbing behind him and sits alone and refuses to talk to anyone. After everyone has made their pass of the coffins Sam comes up last and tucks a lily into his mother’s hair and weaves his father’s dog tags through his hands before turning back, sitting down, and waiting to carry his parents out into the waiting hearse one-by-one.

**_Rhodey – Age 25 – 7 Years Before the Meeting_ **

“Second lieutenant, Rhodes, I’m impressed.” Gary says, slapping him on the back while handing him a beer with the other. “Impressed, here, doesn’t mean surprised, though. I knew you had it in you.”

Rhodey accepts the beer and smiles, toasting to his friend, “Thanks, man.”

The bar is loud, filled with laughter and shouts from one side to the other and it feels a little like too much for Rhodey’s tastes. But, hey, he’s celebrating and if he were to be honest it’s been awhile since he’s wound down.

“Wasn’t Mr. Stark supposed to show up at your ceremony?” Charlie asks, settling into a stool on the other side of Rhodey. “The whole company was getting itself worked up about it.”

Rhodey winces and downs the rest of his beer before setting the empty bottle down, “Listen, guys. I told you that he _might_ show up. The man does own a multi-billion dollar company.”

“You’d think he could make the time, though. He sure spends enough of it getting into every scandalous gossip mag there is.” Gary laughs, low and scratchy. “How’d you deal with that in school?”

Rhodey stands and gestures for another beer, talking while he waits, “If Tony couldn’t show it’s because there was something important keeping him. Tony’s never dropped seeing me unless it was important. I’m not going to go over this again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok. At least let him know he owes you. Maybe we can get some new tech out of it.”

A beer is slid along the top of the bar to Rhodey and he grabs it, takes a sip, and backs away from the bar, “Well, until Tony gets here, how about you take his place and pay my bill?”

“Oh, sure, Your Highness.” Gary laughs.

Rhodey wades his way across the bar, smile leaving his face the closer he gets to the payphone across the way. It’s in a dark corner near the bathrooms, relatively free of dancing bodies but not the best place in terms of smell. The whole thing is covered in graffiti of people’s names, numbers, messages, and curses. He pulls up to the cubby, sets down his beer, and fishes out a handful of quarters from his pocket.

Each quarter clinks dully as he feeds them in with the headset tucked between his shoulder and ear. A dial tone sounds and he punches in his parent’s home phone robotically. As it rings he swallows down the anxious feeling rising like bile and tries to keep a smile on his face because hey, he just made second lieutenant.

 _“Hello?”_ A sweet voice calls from the other end, sounding a bit hollow through the phone.

Rhodey swallows, “It’s me, Mama.”

 _“Oh, baby.”_ She says with a happy sigh. _“I got your letter. I’m so proud of you. My little boy making his way up in the ranks.”_

“I’m twenty-five, Mama.”

She clucks her tongue, _“You’ll always be my baby.”_ There’s a pause with a sigh and then, _“I’m so sorry I couldn’t go to your ceremony, James. I-“_

 _“James is on the phone?”_ A voice interrupts, quiet in the background.

He can hear a hand cover the receiver and his mother talking softly, _“Yes, honey. He’s just calling to catch up. He’s out with friends celebrating-“_

_“Why?”_

There’s a rustle and a sound of exasperation, _“It’s a big deal, Hank. Can’t you just tell your son you’re proud of him for once?”_

Rhodey feels the elation of the evening falling away to leave the same heavy feeling of disappointment settle in his chest. Nothing is ever good enough with his father.

_“Let me talk to him, Henrietta.”_

A pause, a small sigh, and his mother is talking into the phone again, _“Your father wants to talk to you.”_ Then, softly, _“No matter what he says, remember that he is proud of you and loves you.”_

“Ok, Mama. Put him on.”

There’s a shuffling on the phone and a quiet, hushed conversation between his mom and dad that sounds like the argument they always have about him. The bar feels too loud now, too crowded, and suddenly he isn’t happy with himself at all. Second lieutenant isn’t anything to be excited about. Lieutenant Colonel is the goal and nothing short of it will make his father happy.

Not to mention the other thing his dad needles him about anytime he’s given the chance.

 _“Your mother seems to think congratulations are in order.”_ His father rumbles over the line, voice deep and smooth. _“But I seem to remember our talk about what our goals are.”_

Rhodey grinds his teeth, jaw clenching, for a moment before getting out, “Yessir.”

 _“Though,”_ His dad goes on, _“I’m glad to see your head is in the right place. You’re on track. See, I told you that if you got past the whole gay thing, you’d go places.”_

“So you’ve said, Dad.”

There’s a huff, the closest thing to approval he’s ever gotten, _“Yes, well, you know when to give me a call. Keep up with your letters so your mother doesn’t throw a fit.”_

His mom speaks up, then, in the background and Rhodey puts in another quarter, _“Let me talk to him, Hank.”_

There’s no goodbye from his father, just the sound of the phone changing hands again. Rhodey sucks on his teeth, grimacing at the bad taste in his mouth. Even in another country his father manages to make him feel small and insignificant.

 _“Baby?”_ His mom says, tentative and Rhodey realizes that he’s drifted off a little.

“Sorry, Mama, I’m here.”

There’s a sigh and then, _“I know it’s not enough, sugar, but I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.”_ There’s a rustling and then, in a hushed tone, _“I’m sorry about your father. I promise, he’ll come around to the whole gay business.”_

“You’ve been saying that for years.” Rhodey says, managing to laugh a little.

_“And every year I think it’s the year. I’m a crazy optimist.”_

Rhodey laughs for real this time, “That’s why I love you, Mama.”

_“Aww, and I love you, dear. Be good, darling, and be sure to let little Tony know that I love him, too.”_

“Sure thing. I’m planning on calling him next.”

There’s a hum and he can hear the smile in her voice, _“Sounds good. Keep in touch, baby. Kisses.”_

“Kisses.” Rhodey replies and hangs up.

He rests his head against the graffiti for a moment and breaths once, twice, and then straightens. He takes a long pull of his beer and gives up a finger to signal his friends to wait when he hears them calling. Rhodey puts in a few more quarters and dials Tony’s personal cell, which Pepper picks up.

 _“James.”_ She says, sounding pleased. _“How was the ceremony?”_

“Good. Official. Please tell me that Tony had a real reason for not showing.”

She sighs, _“It’s my fault, I’m afraid. He’s had a meeting that’s been rescheduled for months and I told him that if he didn’t go he was going to be in serious danger of getting benched by Obie.”_ There’s a pause, and then, with a smile in her voice, _“He really wanted to see it, James. As soon as he’s done here he’s on his way. His bags have been packed all week.”_

“No rush.” Rhodey says, relieved. “Can I talk to him?”

_“He’s sleeping but he’d want me to wake him.”_

Rhodey shakes his head and smirks, “I’m not going to make you deal with him like that, Pepper. Just tell him I’m expecting him and that my mother sends her love.”

 _“Will do, James.”_ Pepper says, smiling. There’s a pause and then, _“I’m proud of you. We both are.”_

“I know. Thanks, Pep.”

_**Sam – Age 18 – 7 _Years Before the Meeting_** _

It’s been a slow couple of weeks since the funeral.

The first week was spent largely in his bed. He’d ignored phone calls and hadn’t touched any of the many casseroles that people had sent home with him. It had been hard just to get up and take a piss, let alone shower and feed himself.

Over the next couple of weeks, though, he’d managed to get out of bed and start thinking about what he was going to do. It was then, surrounded by his father’s art and his mother’s books that he’d come to understand that he couldn’t live like this anymore. Everything was painful and too much. He could still smell his mother’s perfume hanging in the air and hear his dad mumbling his way through the morning paper. Sometimes he would wake up and for a second he’d forget they were dead.

It all needed to go.

So here he was, lying down in his parent’s bed, surrounded by boxes on top of boxes of things he’s packed. Most of the house has been reduced to cardboard prisons. Except a few of his things, clothes and bathroom toiletries, and the spread next to him on the bed. It’s made up mostly of VHS tapes – home movies – and photo albums. The small tv in his parents room is playing through the video of their trip to the beach when Sam had been four. It was quiet in the background, playing softly while he read through the journal his mother had kept while she’d been pregnant with him.

Sam was planning to keep his mother’s cookbook and his father’s sermons with him for as long as possible. He wasn’t quiet able to let go of those things yet.

And that’s how he falls asleep. With the lamp on and the tv still running, cookbook snuggled to his chest. The only thing on his mind is that the best way to run away is by signing up with the Air Force first thing in the morning.

**_Rhodey – Age 26 – 6 ** _Years Before the Meeting_**_ **

Rhodey is dating Rhonda Mills.

It was frustrating, infuriating, really, how much influence his father had over his life. No matter how awful the old man made him feel he still did his best to make him proud. Just to _hear_ the phrase, “I’m proud of you, son” come out of his mouth.

So he was dating Rhonda.

Objectively, she was a very beautiful woman. She was intelligent, bold, spoke her mind, and was competitive. All of which were characteristics Rhodey liked in people, regardless of gender. In all honesty, he had thought he could handle it. He knew that he was considered a little standoffish and a bit of a stickler for the rules and Rhonda was considered cold so as far as he was concerned he could get away with little to no PDA and absolutely no sex.

And it was working. Rhonda didn’t seem to mind. By any and all counts, actually, it was almost like they weren’t even in a romantic relationship. It was the perfect pretense.

The real icing on the cake is that for the first time since he had enlisted his father had called _him_.

Rhodey couldn’t help, though, but notice that victory rang more than a little hollow. It goes to show that the heart wants what it wants and there’s no amount of willpower that can change who you love. Which is just about how it all came to a head.

They were out for a week. Some down time to relax a bit and boost morale. Charlie and Rhodey were on one team against Gary and a new guy, playing some pool at the local hall. It was late and he had more than his fair share of drinks. Just soused enough to let his eyes wander and his mouth run.

He had never been a particularly good flirt. Not at least as well as Tony, to be sure. He could still get it when the need arose, though. And tonight was definitely the occasion.

Before he knew it, the game had ended and everyone had split directions to get drinks or piss and he was left to lean up against the pool table in wait. The hall was dark and lit sparsely by the occasionally overhead lamp and the gleam of the bar. The felt of the table was smooth and worn, the balls all dull and scratched from years of use.

It was when he was getting the table set for the next round that Rhonda made her way up to him.

“I saw you.”

Rhodey looks at her, fingers pressed against the cool surface of the pool balls, and tries to figure out exactly what she means. Time stretches for a moment, creeping by in his slightly drunk state, and all he manages is to ask, “What?”

She huffs and leans against the table to speak to him lowly, “I saw you checking him out, James. I heard the flirting.”

That’s enough to sober Rhodey right up.

He stands, suddenly, knocking his head against the low hanging lamp and winces, whipping out a hand to stabilize it. The bar suddenly sounds too quiet and feels too congested. So, without any preamble, he grabs Rhonda’s arm and pulls her through the crowd, out the door, and into the night.

When the large door to the hall closes with a heavy thud he turns to her slowly and opens his mouth once, twice, three times before he realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

“Look,” Rhonda starts, “I’m not _upset_ with you. Strictly speaking, anyway. I just want to know.”

And that makes sense. Rhonda and he are both people that like to know the cold, hard facts. Both prefer knowing as many outcomes as possible. In fact, up until his whole situation with Rhonda, he had never lied in his life. It seemed like some sort of cosmic joke that his first lie would be to himself.

So he decides to just come right out and say it, “I’m gay.”

“I figured.” Rhonda retorts. There’s no bite in her voice, just acceptance, and Rhodey relaxes a little. She twists her lips the way she does when she’s considering what words to use and then sighs, “When were you going to tell me?”

Rhodey runs a hand over his face and sighs, too, “I don’t know. I know it was unfair to involve you in this. I just…look, my father has been against the whole gay business since I came out and I just thought that maybe…”

“Maybe if you changed who you were he’d accept you. Maybe he’d be proud.”

“Yeah.” Rhodey nods. “Yeah.”

Rhonda paces for a moment and runs her hand over her close-cropped hair, “I get it, you know. Honestly, I’m in it for similar reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father,” she starts, laughing bitterly, “wants nothing more for me than for me to get married. His whole reason for accepting me joining the marines was in hopes of me finding a husband. So when you came forward and weren’t overwhelming or a pig, it was the perfect disguise.”

Rhodey nods, “He thinks you’re close to getting married and you still get to maintain most of your independence.”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Rhodey begins, wary, “hear me out. Do we have to end this, then? I mean, you need to placate your father and I need to mine. This could continue being good for the both of us.”

There’s a pause in which Rhodey can hear the noise from the interstate and the soft buzzing of the hall’s hanging sign. It’s a tense moment, one in which he hopes she’ll see the good in this because he needs her more than strictly fair.

“Ok.” She says with a single nod. “We’ll keep up monthly dates for appearances, still eat with each other in mess, and a weekly kiss to the cheek – one each.”

“Sounds fair.” Rhodey says, relieved. “So we’re ok?”

She looks taken aback for a moment, “Of course. Look, James, you’re still my best friend. Probably my only friend. And honestly, this is a relief for me. Not that you aren’t handsome as the devil but my first and probable only love is going to be my career.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.” Rhodey half-laughs, smiling.

**_Sam – Age 21 – 4 ** _Years Before the Meeting_**_ **

“Do you have a girl back home waiting for you? A guy?” Riley says, sitting next to Sam on a set of benches overlooking the practice field.

Sam just shakes his head, “Naw, man. I told you. Shit like that just isn’t on my mind.”

“Well, why not? I gotta tell you, aside from what it’s like to step out of a plane and plummet towards Earth, falling in love has to be one of the best feelings on this planet.”

“And you know a lot about falling in love, do ya?” Sam asks, laughing. “Something you’re not telling me?”

Riley manages to look sheepish for a moment, a light blush coloring his cheeks, blue eyes down while he runs a hand over his short, blonde hair, “Actually, yeah. Didn’t really wanna jinx it, ya know? You hear so many stories about loved ones not being able to handle the distance.”

“Yeah.” Sam nods, thinking about more than a few of the men and women he knew in AIT. “It’s a sad thing to see. One of the reasons I don’t mess with that shit.”

Riley sighs and looks up at Sam, exasperated, “C’mon, Sam. You’re gonna have to lighten up someday. I swear, one of these days you’ll meet _the_ person and you’re gonna choke on those words.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam laughs. “Enough about my love life, man. Tell me about your girl.”

He’s quiet for a moment, small smile playing at his lips and he leans forward with his forearms on his knees, “She’s amazing, Sammy. A real peach. Got this dark, long hair and the prettiest honey-colored eyes I’ve ever seen. Her name is Jenny. Whip-smart and with a sharp tongue to boot.”

“She sounds way out of your league, man.” Sam jokes.

Riley laughs, “See, the thing is that she is. She is just like, man, she’s professional football and I’m just high school.”

“Interesting comparison.”

“It’s true!” Riley defends with a smile. “Probably not the best one but I’m not nearly as good with words as she is. I don’t know what she sees in me.”

Sam considers, serious, “Well, you’re a stand-up guy. Smart in your own right, loyal as hell, and funny. I’ve never seen you less than happy. She probably likes the positivity. And I’m sure you treat her right.”

“Damn straight. That woman is it for me, man.” He smirks to himself, “She’s stayed with me this whole time. Writes me weekly, sends photos – I even got a special exception to get a package of her famous oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“She sounds perfect, man. I’m happy for you.”

Riley gives a blinding smile to him, “Thanks. You know, this is the best time to tell you. I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

“No way! When?”

“At our up-coming promotion ceremony. Afterwards, anyway.”

Sam claps him on the back, “I can’t wait to see it.”

“I’m glad.” Riley says, bumping shoulders with Sam, “There is one more thing I gotta ask, though.”

“Shoot.”

There’s a short silence and a deep breath before he asks, “Will you be my best man?”

“What?” Sam asks, shocked and pleased, half hysterical. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

Sam leans back against the bleachers and laughs, soaking up the noonday sun, “Oh, man. Of course!” He rocks back forward and raps an arm around Riley, bringing up his other hand to give him a noogie.

“Watch your knuckles, man!”

Sam laughs again and releases him, “You got the ring already?”

“What? I can’t believe.” Riley asks, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Of course I do.”

“Just checking, man. I’m the best man here, I gotta make sure you got things square.” Sam says, pushing Riley off the bleachers.

**_Rhodey – Age 29 – 3 ** _Years Before the Meeting_**_ **

Rhodey has been Major James Rhodes for all of two weeks before he gets the call that his father’s passed.

It was an easy affair, getting time off for both himself and Rhonda, to make the trip to see his mother and make it in time for the funeral. She was fragile, shaking and crying most of the time, and when she’d seen Rhodey’s face for the first time in years she’d broken down.

_“You look so much like him.”_

He was finding it increasingly hard to parse exactly what his feelings were here. By all accounts, he should be devastated and he supposes a part of him is. The small part of him left over from when he was a boy and still had hope that he could one day make his old man proud. Every other part, though, was mostly composed of relief, acceptance, and sorrow on behalf of his mother.

The funeral was nice. The music reserved and the arrangements muted. Enough people had shown to fill the whole church. Civilians and military personnel alike. It had rained during service, something that seemed appropriate for the setting. His father always did love the rain.

Rhonda was silent most of the time and glued to his left side while his mother attached herself to his right. It was a little overwhelming, dealing with everyone that had come. The long lines of handshakes and the repetitious wishes for peace. He didn’t cry once and didn’t have it in him to feel bad about it either. His mother had been unfazed as well, saying, _“Everyone grieves differently, baby.”_

Soon, though, later back at the house, people began to trickle out one by one until there’s no one left but the three of them. The silence almost louder than the din of people before. Rhonda and he help clean up quietly, walking around in their dress outfits, hands filled with trash and half-eaten plates of food. After an hour of cleaning house he finds himself standing alongside his mother at the sink, drying and putting dishes away as she cleans.

“I told him that he would regret this.” She starts after a while of working quietly.

Rhodey side-eyes her before looking back to the plate he’s drying, “Regret what, Mama?”

She sighs and says, simply, “Never telling you how proud he was of you.”

“Are you sure he ever was?”

“Oh, yes.” She nods, lips trembling. “He told me all the time. Just didn’t want to – or couldn’t – tell you himself. I think he was afraid that you’d stop pushing yourself.”

He laughs, bitter, “That’s a thin excuse.”

“Never said it was a good one.” She adds, placating. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re more open than he ever was. Please learn from him, baby. Don’t hide how you feel from your children.”

“ _If_ I have children, Ma.” Rhodey laughs, nudging her in the side.

She tuts at him, “Boy, you are built to be a father. You’ll be a damn good one, too. Trust me on this, I’m your mother.”

“Of course.” Rhodey smiles.

It’s quiet then, again, for a moment and Rhodey can see her chewing on the inside of her lip. It’s the same way she does when her brain is working on the right thing to say. She’s always been careful and tactful. Quite the opposite of his father.

“You know,” she begins, “I should have stood up for you better.”

“Mama…”

She sets down her sponge with more force than necessary and says, “No, listen to me. I should have. He was your father, sure, but I am your mother.” She turns to him, dries her hands, and places an open palm on his cheek. “My job is to love and nurture you no matter what. To find pride in everything you do and to let you know how special you are.”

Rhodey covers her hand with his own, “You’ve done that, though. You still do.”

“Not nearly well enough.” She replies, patting his cheek before dropping her hand. “Your father was old fashioned and more than a little bigoted but you were still his son. In light of his death, this is what I have to say to you: live your life how you wanna live it, sugar. You love who you love and fight to keep it, you hear? And let poor Rhonda know before she gets any more involved.”

 Rhodey laughs once, almost like a sob, and pulls his mother into a fierce hug, “She already knows. We kept it up for appearances. I’m sorry I lied to you about it.”

“Well, I let you be put in a position to lie so let us just call it even, ok?” She says, giving him a squeeze before letting him go.

“I may not find anyone.” Rhodey says, admitting to his fear. “Being openly gay in the military is pretty unheard of and when it is it isn’t received well.”

She huffs and returns to the dishes to finish them off, “I never took you for a quitter.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, drying plates again. “Just…nervous.”

“Oh, honey, we all are when it comes to love.” She hip-checks him and splashes him with some water. “Now hows about you go find Rhonda and talk to her. I think it’s time the both of you started living your lives for yourselves.”

Rhodey leans down to drop a kiss on her cheek, “Yes, Mama.”

**_Rhodey – Age 32/Sam – Age 25 – The Meeting_ **

It’s when Rhodey is promoted to Lieutenant Colonel that he gets invited by the Air Force to speak with the paratroopers of the new program, Falcon.

It’s been a tense couple years and while he and Rhonda are still close he’s kept mostly to himself. Aside from Tony, that is. Of whom had managed to make it to his promotion ceremony as well as financed and designed the wings for the Falcon program. All in all, things were looking up more and more every day.

He’s on the base now, being led by an eager pilot who can’t seem to stop asking questions, nor pick just one to ask at a time. It’s hot, but not unbearable, and he’s happy. An advancement that he’s pleased with.

Rhodey sees them a good hundred yards or so away on the training field. The two men with whom the wings are to be given, essentially. Both men have proved their worth many times over and were not only hand-picked by their General but approved by Tony as well.

Upon approaching, the soldier at his side introduces them. The blonde first as Riley Robinson, a strong-jawed, straight-backed individual with a perpetual smile on his face and one of the sunniest dispositions he’s even known. The man answers Rhodey’s greeting with a quick, perfect salute.

The second is a man with dark skin and large, expressive obsidian eyes. He’s introduced as Sam Wilson, top of his class and top command. Sam gives an equally impressive salute and gives Rhodey a once-over that he’d have missed if he hadn’t been so focused on the sharp angles of Sam’s face.

Pleasantries are exchanged and the tech is introduced and before long there’s jokes being slung this way and that. It’s a fun afternoon in which he finds he likes both of these younger men and admires them for their bravery and complete willingness to work with new tech that hasn’t seen many miles in the way of field testing.

But the day passes quickly and before long it’s time to return to base. It’s difficult to hide his reluctance to leave but he manages to not look too put out.

It’s just as he’s gathering up his things to leave that Sam approaches him.

“Thank you for coming by today, Lieutenant Colonel.”

Rhodey gives him a smile, “Please, call me James.”

“James.” Same says, smirking. “In that case, call me Sam.” He says, reaching out to shake his hand.

Rhodey grasps it firmly and shakes, noting that it takes Sam a little longer than proper to let go.

Sam drops his hand and hovers close, unable to help himself, and asks, “Is this the last we’ll be seeing of you?”

“I’m not sure.” Rhodey admits, zipping his bag shut and then hazards, “Not officially, anyway.”

He eyes Sam and is relieved to find a smile slowly overtake his face, “So,” Sam asks, voice thick and slow, “if I wanted to get a hold of you – unofficially – how would I?”

Sam can’t believe he’s saying this at all but after so many years of imagining ending up alone, right here, right now, he thinks that maybe he’d be willing to reevaluate.

“Well,” Rhodey smiles, fishing out a card before turning it over and scrawling his own personal cell on the back, “you can call this number. Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> I finally did it, guys! The author has managed to get his ass in gear and get you the Rhodey/Sam story you all deserve.


End file.
